So we live; a spirit that broods and hovers over the continual death of time, the lost meaning, the unrecaptured moment, the unremembered face, until the final chop that ends all our moments and plunges that spirit back into the void from which it came.
Iris MurdochSeems like everything
lead up to this day
and it's just like every day
that's ever been.
Sun goin' up
and then the sun
it goin' down.
And there was that trick he did with time, making it speed up when we were together and drag til I saw him again.
Francine ProseMoney should not dictate how I live my life..
I must take charge and become the master of money, so that I decide what I want to do with my time.
Tag: life money time take-charge
Time, not money, is your biggest asset in life. You need time to invest in relationships (with yourself and your family) or to chase your passion.
"Think again" if you are still trading off time for money.
Let your money work for you. You don't work for money. That is exactly what Financial Freedom is...
Tag: money passion time relationships relationship financial-freedom asset financial-planning assets
Back then we gave it our all, we neither lied nor made mistakes, we didn't fail and didn't do anything wrong.
It's just that...TIME has passed and changed it all.
Tag: life friendship lies time youth mistakes failure relationship
The writer's curse is that even in solitude, no matter its duration, he never grows lonely or bored.
Criss JamiTag: imagination art contentment solitude time loneliness creativity reflection alone curse growth perseverance writer boredom independent hard-work company author good-company contemplate blessed self-sufficient
That's what I wanted for myself for even just a little while-to be unaware of the rest of the world. I needed some time.
Dorothea Benton FrankTag: time
But most of all, as summer slanted to an end, he was learning to love idleness, idleness no longer as stretches of freedom reclaimed by stealth here and there from involuntary labour, surreptitious thefts to be enjoyed sitting on his heels before a flowerbed with the fork dangling from his fingers, but as a yielding up of himself to time, to a time flowing slowly like oil from horizon to horizon over the face of the world, washing over his body, circulating in his armpits and his groin, stirring his eyelids. He was neither pleased nor displeased when there was work to do; it was all the same. He could lie all afternoon with his eyes open, staring at the corrugations in the roof-iron and the tracings of rust; his mind would not wander, he would see nothing but the iron, the lines would not transform themselves into pattern or fantasy; he was himself, lying in his own house, the rust was merely rust, all that was moving was time, bearing him onward in its flow.
J.M. CoetzeeA race that rejected the idea of personal sacrifice would surely be erased from time's records before long.
Salman RushdieTag: life humanity time sacrifice race record
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